


Behold a Pale Horse

by DebraHicks



Category: War of the Worlds (TV 1988)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Courtroom Drama, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebraHicks/pseuds/DebraHicks
Summary: Being gay in the military in 1990 was a reason for discharge.  How does the team fight that charge against Ironhorse when the opposition has pictures?Printed in Dyad #9 5/1/1990Printed in Business Associates  5/1/1991
Relationships: Harrison Blackwood/Paul Ironhorse
Kudos: 1





	Behold a Pale Horse

It had been an exceptionally peaceful day, finishing off with a nice dinner and a homey evening. The windows were open, smells of first spring travelling on the cool wind. Harrison stretched back into the large chair, surveyed the rest of the room. Suzanne and Debi were in the kitchen puttering. Norton was sitting by the fireplace playing chess on a laptop. Ironhorse was at the table near the open window finishing up the endless stream of paperwork necessary to keep the upper echelon satisfied. Harrison let his eyes rest on the Colonel, watching in amusement as he tried to control his impatience with the forms. 

Ironhorse looked up at that moment, dark eyes meeting Harrison's. "Is something wrong?" 

"No," Harrison shook his head. "It's just that during these quiet periods I never know whether to be relieved or even more apprehensive." 

"I say let's enjoy it while we can," Norton chimed in. 

Ironhorse smiled, a slight curl of the right side of his mouth. "When you're right, Mr. Drake, you're right." 

"Ta da!" Suzanne announced from the door. She was standing behind Debi, holding her shoulders; a chocolate cake proudly displayed in front of them. "Since we were too busy six months ago, I'd like to present Debi McCullough's first from scratch cake, in honor of eighteen months as a team." 

Norton spun his chair around, Harrison and Ironhorse came to their feet. Harrison applauded politely. 

"Has it really been that long?" Norton asked. "How time flies when you're having fun." 

Glancing at Harrison, Ironhorse said, "Seems like forever some times." 

For a second two pairs of eyes, shockingly different in color, met. Harrison's blue-gray softened, a warm smile covered his face. "Is that a good forever or a bad forever?" 

Ironhorse's expression gave nothing away. "The verdict is still out." 

"Let's eat!" Norton encouraged. 

While Debi went to fetch Mrs. Pennyworth and drinks, Suzanne cut the cake. With a shake of her head she watched Ironhorse take a huge piece. "How do you do it, Colonel?" 

"What?" he asked warily, always careful of hidden meanings with this team. 

"Eat like a horse and look like a greyhound," Harrison explained, understanding the question immediately. 

With a pointed look toward Harrison, he said, "I exercise, unlike some people." 

The phone rang just as the housekeeper and Debi returned. Ironhorse waved the others away and answered it. 

"Ironhorse here. General Wilson, sir," he said loud enough to attract everyone's attention. Exasperated, worried glances went around the group. 

"I apologize for saying anything," Harrison said as the conversation behind them continued. 

"Yes, sir. I remember him very well. Two years ago." There was a long pause. Even in the dimming twilight Harrison could see the color drain from Ironhorse's face. "Me, sir?" 

The team leader glanced at the others. They had seen it too. Harrison sat his plate down, started across the room toward the other man. 

"Yes, sir. I understand. I'll take care of it, sir." Ironhorse hung up the phone. 

"Paul?" Harrison questioned. 

The Colonel took a step back, looked up at the taller man. The shock and confusion in the black eyes caught Harrison across the stomach, freezing him. Before he could recover Ironhorse moved away. 

"Excuse me," he said softly, "I have to take care of something." 

Harrison stared after him, heard the door to his office close solidly. Suzanne came up next to him. 

"What was that about?" 

"I don't know." Harrison shook his head. "But I intend to find out." With a smile of reassurance he picked up the Colonel's forgotten cake and went down the hall. 

There was complete silence from the other side of the oak doors. Harrison knocked softly, opened the door without waiting for an answer. Ironhorse was standing, absolutely rigid, staring out the large bay window, hands clasped tightly behind his back. He didn't acknowledge the Doctor's entrance. 

Harrison sat the cake down on the neat, polished desk. "You forgot your cake. I knew you wouldn't want to disappoint Debi." 

He stepped a little closer. The sharp rays of sunset reflected in the glass, etched strange shadows around the room. Ironhorse's jaw was clenched almost as tight as his fists; his anger reflected off the glass as bright as the setting sun. The hard emotion, barely leashed in his usually stoic friend, created primal fear in Harrison's stomach. Ironhorse looked very much like a man about to put his fist through a wall. 

Harrison cleared his throat. "Paul, if there's bad news..." 

"It has nothing to do with the project. At least, not yet." Ironhorse assured him through clenched teeth. "It's something I have to deal with." 

"Paul, you know by now that anything that affects one of us affects all of us." Harrison reminded him gently. 

The rigidity in the strong body faded just a little. Ironhorse turned to Harrison, a touch of warmth in his eyes. "I know and I appreciate it." 

Minutes of silence past before Ironhorse came across and sat stiffly down in the large chair. Without warning he said, "I'm being brought up before a Board of Inquiry for misconduct." 

It was the last thing that Harrison had expected. Trouble with the aliens, perhaps even personal trouble, but Ironhorse doing something wrong militarily was beyond the realm of possibility. 

"A court-martial?" Harrison questioned. 

"No, that's the next step," Ironhorse explained. "This is an inquiry to see if the case is justified. If it is then there will be a court- martial." 

"What are you being accused of?" Harrison asked hoarsely. 

The answer was forced out, short and controlled. "Of making a homosexual advance toward one of my men." 

If the first revelation had been shocking this one was numbing. Harrison stood perfectly still for several minutes, trying to grasp it. His stunned reaction actually seemed to reach Ironhorse's strange sense of humor. 

"I take it you're as surprised as I was." 

Harrison finally found his voice. "Who?" 

"Lt. Mark Nelson, a punk that somehow managed to worm his way passed his other commanders and ended up in my unit two years ago. It was a classic case of the Peter Principle; he rose to the level of his incompetence." 

"What happened?" 

"I kicked his butt back to a regular unit." 

"And he's held a grudge this long?" 

Ironhorse shrugged. "I don't know all the details. General Wilson is handling the arrangements of an Army attorney. I'll find out when he gets here." 

Harrison's obvious confusion and discomfort carried away some of Ironhorse's anger. He ran a hand across his eyes. 

"The big problem is that, according to the manual, I'm suppose to be relieved of duty. Given..." 

"Relieved?" Harrison was outraged. "Before the inquiry is even opened? That's ridiculous!" 

While Ironhorse agreed in spirit, nineteen years of military training framed his response. "You can't leave someone under suspicion in command. It's like a law officer under investigation for use of force, you can't run the risk that he'll do something before the investigation is finished." 

"But this is different!" Harrison protested. "It's not like you're accused of a violent crime or selling government secrets. Christ, what a ridiculous thing to be accused of anyway! You'd think the Army could join the rest of the twentieth century..." 

"Harrison." 

"And don't give me any Army drivel about gays not being real men..." 

"Blackwood!" 

"What!" 

"I don't care what a man does in bed or with whom," Ironhorse interrupted firmly. "But it's a regulation and I agreed to live with it." 

"Well, someone should change it." 

"They've tried - and that's not the problem." 

Harrison took a deep breath. "Okay. So, what now?" 

"Now we go to bed." 

They caught the innuendo at the same time. Ironhorse darkened, glancing at the floor. Despite the seriousness of the situation Harrison's eyes widened and he was forced to cough hard to cover his laughter. "I take it that was not a proposal." 

"We both get some sleep," Ironhorse amended. "I'll tell the others in the morning." 

*****

The news was received by the rest of the Blackwood team with the same sort of shock. It was Norton who voiced the question they were all wondering. 

"How much trouble can they make for you?" 

"It's just his word against yours," Harrison speculated. 

"I think we're getting worked up over nothing," Norton said. "Come on, Colonel, you're a Colonel, what's this guy? Captain?" 

"Lieutenant." 

"No sweat then." 

Harrison was silent, watching the Colonel's expression. Something was not being said. "Paul?" 

"This isn't like Nelson. He always covered his tracks. That was how he got as far as he did." 

"You think he may have... what could he have?" Harrison questioned. 

"I don't know," Ironhorse admitted lowly. 

"Is there anything we can do before the inquest starts?" Suzanne asked. 

Ironhorse shook his head. "No, but thank you for the offer." 

Suzanne stood, starting toward the elevator with Norton. "If you need us, you know where we'll be." 

"Doctor, my office, please," Ironhorse said stiffly, leading the way. He closed the doors behind them, strode across the room to the desk. "General Wilson is going to leave me in command as long as he can, using the secrecy of our mission as reason. Derriman will take over when I'm gone." 

"Gone?" Harrison questioned in a hoarse voice. "Where are you going?" 

In his best command posture Ironhorse explained without looking up. "This is my post, Harrison. When the procedures start, I'll have to move out." 

"Oh." 

The pain in the single syllable brought Ironhorse's attention around. Harrison was staring down at the floor. "I forget that for you this is just... a post." 

Something caught in Ironhorse's chest, making him take a short breath. He moved away from the desk, lay a hand on Harrison's shoulder, squeezed gently. Blue eyes looked up at him. 

"This is home," Ironhorse said softly. "And it's been a very long time since I've said that about any place." 

Harrison blinked, fighting the stinging that threatened his composure. Logic told him that there was nothing more they could do until the inquest started and they knew what they were up against. But his heart urged him to do something to comfort the confused betrayal he could sense in Ironhorse. 

"Paul?" 

"Yes." 

Harrison smiled gently. "The cabin is about half-way between here and the base. When the time comes we can move you, temporarily, up there." 

Ironhorse considered it for a moment. "I think that would be acceptable." 

*****

"I can't find anything damaging here, Colonel," Captain Warren informed them. 

He was medium height, middle fifties, with thinning red hair and close trimmed mustache. According to General Wilson, he was the best, having been a defense attorney for twenty four of his twenty six years in the Army. He had arrived to go over the case with Ironhorse but found himself briefing the entire team. 

Nervously, Warren cleared his throat. "I understand, Colonel, that you'll be moving to another location two days from now." 

Something in his tone made Ironhorse wary. "Yes, between here and the base." 

Warren turned to the other three, staring at them for a second before directing his gaze at Harrison. "Dr. Blackwood, this is hard for me to recommend, and I'm reasonably sure that you're not going to like it, but I'd suggest that until this is over you see as little of the Colonel as possible." 

"What?" Two voices sounded together. 

Warren frowned, not expecting protest from both men. "Colonel, I'm sure you understand..." 

"Well, I don't!" Harrison stated. 

Ironhorse put a restraining hand on the doctor's arm. "Harrison..." 

Harrison whirled around, his anger and frustration directed at Iron horse. "Don't you start! Stupid Army regulations.." 

"Doc..." 

Suzanne stood up. "Give him a chance, Harrison." 

"I meant that," Warren tried lamely, "even though the Board will have top secret clearance and will know who you are, it might look... your presence might be..." 

"Suspicious?" Ironhorse supplied, one eyebrow arching. 

"Yes." 

"Oh, good grief," Suzanne muttered. 

"At least, think about it." Warren gathered his information. "Call me if you have any questions, Colonel. If not, I'll see you at the inquest on Monday." 

Ironhorse escorted him to the door. Suzanne and Norton went passed. "We'll be downstairs if you need anything." 

Suzanne patted his arm as she went by, obviously retreating to leave the other two alone. Harrison was standing on the small walled balcony, staring into the distance. Ironhorse came in and sat down near the cold fireplace. 

"I don't see why anyone would be suspicious," he said dryly. "I obviously have better taste." 

Harrison was too angry to find it amusing. "I strongly resent being told when I can or cannot see my best friend." 

Warmth tingled across Ironhorse's chest, crept up his face. When he found the courage to look up it was into shining, amused turquoise eyes. 

"I embarrassed you," Harrison said. 

Ironhorse's smile was a very soft lifting of his mouth. "It's not something I'm use to but thank you." 

Silence claimed the room, close and comfortable. "I do understand why I should stay away." Harrison started. "It's just..." 

The pain in Harrison's low voice, fanned Ironhorse's temper; he came to his feet. "You are not staying away. I'm not staying away. If you want to be at that inquest, then damnit you be there." 

"Of course, I want to be there. But Paul, I don't want to endanger your ca..." 

"You won't," His tone left no room for argument. He sighed, tired of the whole thing already and knowing it was just starting. "Let it go for now, Harrison. We have a lot to do in the next two days." 

The situation, as it had for the past year, took precedent. Harrison took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes. "Once you're gone, there isn't any way of getting hold of you, is there?" A trickle of fear dripped into his stomach, showed in his wide blue eyes. 

"Harrison," Ironhorse saw the apprehension. "Derriman's good. I trained him. You've been on missions with him..." 

"I have no doubt about his ability to handle Omega, Colonel. It just that... you've... we've been together since that first night." 

The black eyes flickered, a sign Harrison knew meant the emotions were getting too strong for the Colonel. Normally he would have withdrawn, letting his friend off the hook. Not today. Today he needed to make sure Ironhorse understood how much they valued him. 

"You're my lucky charm, Colonel." 

With a smile that showed only in his eyes, Ironhorse informed him. "Well, it's a good thing. You need all the luck you can get, Harrison." 

"I know," Harrison agreed adamantly. "How long will this take?" 

"That's impossible to tell. If it's as easy as Warren seems to think, only two or three days." 

"But?" 

"I said it before; this isn't like Nelson," Ironhorse wandered to the open window, took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension out of his shoulders. "There's more to this than there seems. I just can't get a bearing on it." 

The slight stoop to the normally straight shoulders suddenly reminded Harrison of his adopted father, of the years of trying to convince people of the truth. Was that how Ironhorse was feeling now? No, he amended, this was different. Forrester had still been respected as a brilliant, though eccentric, scientist. Paul had spent twenty three years, more than half his life, being a soldier and now everything he had built and done was being threatened by a vicious lie. 

"Paul?" 

Ironhorse turned away from the window. Seeing the concern on the fair, handsome face he gave a brief smile. "The waiting is the worst part; once the firing starts it isn't nearly as bad as what you imagined." 

Wondering again at the knack Ironhorse had for sensing his problem, Harrison commented, "I don't know why I'm so worried; you're the one getting the two days of fresh air and sunshine. I'll help move your stuff up." 

Ironhorse started to point out that he only had one small case but decided against it. Helping him move was Harrison's offer of assurance.   
*****

It was the first time Ironhorse had visited the small cabin, a legacy to Harrison from Dr. Forrester. Once he had started up here to, as Harrison had put it, get in touch with his feelings after his tragic shooting of an innocent hostage. The feelings from that incident were still deep; the nightmares had vanished but the sorrow remained. 

"Are you sure this is enough food?" Harrison questioned from the kitchen where he was unpacking the crate Ms. Pennyworth had sent along. 

"How much do you think I eat, Harrison?" Amusement lightened Ironhorse's voice. "There's enough here to feed the entire squad. And it's not like I'm in the middle of the Brazilian jungle. I can always drive to the store." 

Slamming the last cabinet closed, Harrison sighed, knowing it was time for him to leave. He had a job to return to and a long two day wait to sit through before the inquest started. He lingered, watching Paul as he checked windows and doors, thinking through defensive positions as automatically as breathing. Absently Harrison found himself admiring the fluid grace of the man. At first he had thought the Colonel too stiff, too controlled; only after months together did he see the smooth elegance. 

Feeling the warm eyes on his back, Ironhorse turned and was startled by the intensity of Harrison's gaze. There was the expected friendship and something else that sent a shiver along Ironhorse's spine. Thoughts of the last conversation he had with his grandfather rushed at him but he pushed them away. 

"You'd better go," he reminded the Doctor. 

"I know," Harrison nodded. "We decided two of us would take turns at the inquest. Suzanne and I will be there tomorrow." 

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I know the aliens have been unusu ally quiet but leaving just one person..." 

A cellular phone appeared in Harrison's hand. "Norton will stay in contact." 

"Harrison," Ironhorse hesitated. "If things get tight... you call me and damn the Board." 

At the instant he said it they both realized what he had offered. Panic flared in Ironhorse; walking out on the Board would end his career. The Army was his life; he didn't know anything else. Yet... 

Harrison smiled at him. "Thank you, Paul. I know you mean that... right now. I also know that you'd regret it." In a very bad Bogart impression, he added, "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow..." 

Ironhorse punched his shoulder, appreciating the escape Harrison had given him, the humor that dispelled the too serious comment. "Just be careful." 

"I'll see you Monday," Harrison said with a smile and a wink. "We'll have you home within the week." 

As he watched Harrison's Bronco disappear among the trees Ironhorse whispered, "I hope so, Harrison, I hope so."

*****

It was the first real break from action that Ironhorse had taken in two years. While he didn't like the reasons behind it, he couldn't deny the tranquility that filled him as he sat against a large oak, taking deep breaths of the sharp spring air, he could feel his tension drain away. A small stream flowed nearby, murmuring comforting sounds. His eyes slid closed and he could almost hear his grandfather's voice in the water. For once, thoughts of his grandfather brought unease. 

It had been a month after his first vision seeking, three months short of his seventeenth birthday. He and the elder Ironhorse had discussed his visions, which confirmed what they both already knew -Paul Ironhorse was a warrior, and in a white man's world that meant he was a soldier. So, he had announced to his small family his intention to get an appointment to West Point. He had the grades, the attitude and the athletic ability; all he needed was a sponsor. His grandfather had agreed to contact a senator that had dealt with the tribe before. 

Before he would do it, though, the old man had taken Paul into the woods. There had been a place, quiet like this one, where a fast flowing river and a narrow stream met. They would sometimes sit for hours in silence, watching the animals come down to drink, feeling the Spirit around them. It was there that Paul had learned the old stories, both family and tribal. He had known that whatever the older man had to say would be important. 

But the start of the conversation had surprised him. 

"I saw you watching Lynne Gray Falcon yesterday." His grandfather had smiled slyly at him. He thought he had blushed. Without any change of expression the old man had added, "Wasn't it just a few weeks ago that you were staring at Tony Windwalker?" 

He had hid his face from his grandfather. A hand patted his head. "Did you start watching Lynne because you were ashamed of watching Tony?" 

"No, Grandfather," he had replied quiet honestly. "I was watching Lynne because... because she's nice to watch." 

"And Tony?" 

"Tony is strong and smart. If he stays sober he can be anything he wants to be." Hesitantly he had added, "And Tony is not bad to look at either." 

His grandfather had laughed at that remark before observing seriously, "But you are afraid to watch Tony." 

Paul had nodded. "At school the white students called men who sleep with men..." 

"I know what they say," his Grandfather had interrupted him. "You know the history of our people, Paul, you know that such things are accepted, even honored. But you have heard the white students. More than that, if you join the white man's army and your heart should turn toward another warrior, it will be even harder to face the decision." 

After a long time of staring into the sparkling water, Paul had answered him. "I don't know who I'll share my life with, Grandfather. But I know what I saw in the visions, I know I'm to be a soldier." He paused. "For now, that is where my balance lies. If it should change then I'll have to find my balance again." 

He could still see the shining look of admiration and pride in the similar black eyes. His grandfather had contacted the senator the next morning. 

A hawk called from somewhere far overhead and Ironhorse squinted against the sunlight to spot it. He had walked in balance for most of his life; until 'Nam had shaken everything he believed in. He had spent six months leave at home, walking the narrow mountain trails, speaking with his grandfather and the tribal shaman. When he had come away from the reservation he had once more known his way. 

That was before the Blackwood Project and his collision with Dr. Harrison Blackwood. They had disliked each other immediately, argued, fought... become friends as close as any Paul had ever known. Now... the balance was shifting. And this time Ironhorse had only his own council and his own heart to follow. 

That night he dreamed of two stallions in moonlight and green fields. One was the death color, black; the other was blue, life. The mountains around them had whispered the beginning chant, the song to morning, the celebration of life. The horses had danced side by side to the chant, moving slowly together and becoming one. 

He refused to think about it the next morning. 

*****

"Lt. Colonel Paul Ironhorse, you stand accused of volition of regulation 617 of the United States Army Military Code, specifically, that you did, on the night of September 3, 1988 try to force then Corporal Mark Nelson to participate in a homosexual act." 

Harrison winched at the blandly read words; Ironhorse never blinked. To everyone in the room he seemed perfectly as ease, completely in control. Only Harrison noticed the slight tightening along the stiff jaw, the subtle sharp rise of the man's chest. 

"This is an informal board of inquiry to determine whether further action on this accusation should be taken," Colonel Kennedy, the Officer in Charge finished his opening statements. 

The clerk started the proceedings by reading in both men's records. Harrison watched their opponent from the second row. Nelson was medium height with a stocky build, dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was someone Harrison would have never noticed in a crowd, unlike Ironhorse. His service record was solid, if unremarkable, until the black mark of being thrown out of Delta Squad. From that incident there was a downward turn, the last two years had been small posts and no promotions. Harrison rea lized that Ironhorse, at least as far as Nelson was concerned, had ruined his military career. The Doctor didn't feel any sympathy for the man, however. If he was incompetent he didn't belong on the elite Delta unit; what happened to him after that was his own doing. 

It took considerably longer to read in Ironhorse's record. Harrison listened in quiet awe. He had never liked the military, still didn't like the unimaginative, hard-line hawkism that Ironhorse was capable of, but there was no denying that he had carried his duties to the limits and beyond. A certain pride at his friend's accomplishments brought a smile to Harrison's face. He looked over at the impassive, impressive figure that Ironhorse made in his dress blues. With a touch of guilt Harrison admitted that even the first time they had met, when he couldn't imagine anyone as stubborn or irritating, even then he had been impressed by the Colonel's composure and bearing. He tore his eyes away, not wanting to be seen staring at the other man. 

"No wonder we've never seen him without a shirt," Suzanne whispered as the last of the record was solemnly read. "He must have a hell of a set of scars." 

"I think he's just shy," Harrison kidded, needing to make light of the long list of injuries and related metals. 

Nelson was called to the stand without further preliminaries. Colonel Kennedy started the questioning by asking Nelson about his military career, proceeding up through his first meeting with Ironhorse. Harrison leaned forward. Every word sounded good but not quiet right, like something rehearsed until the wording was prefect. 

"Lt. Nelson," Colonel Kennedy asked, "will you describe the details of Colonel Ironhorse's supposed advance to you." 

"I had been with the unit almost eight weeks," Nelson began, "during which time Colonel Ironhorse had been very helpful. I wasn't as good a marksman has the other new team members so he had volunteered to coach me on weekends." 

The explanation sounded plausible and Harrison wondered if Nelson was giving just enough of the truth to make it sound good. He glanced toward Ironhorse but couldn't see his face to get confirmation. 

"That Saturday, the third, we went to the range. Everything seemed perfectly normal. The only odd thing was that at one point the Colonel told me to call him Paul when we were off duty." 

Suzanne's hand on his arm was the only thing that kept Harrison quiet. He knew, they both did, that this was wrong. Ironhorse was very particular about who he let call him Paul. It took winning his respect first; his friendship followed but only after a lot of hard work. The long ago conversation in the van on the way to Whitewood, came back to Harrison, the pleasure he had felt with Ironhorse's sudden use of his first name, the equal pleasure when he'd been allowed the same privilege. He jerked his attention back to Nelson. 

"...so we went to this little bar on the opposite side of town." 

"Why did that seem strange to you?" Kennedy questioned. 

"It wasn't one of the regular hangouts for the men, sir. We were there about two hours. I noticed the Colonel seemed a little nervous about something. I was concerned that I wasn't measuring up and that he was going to have to transfer me. So, I asked him." 

"And his answer?" 

"He said, "No, your scores are fine but sometimes it takes more than that to stay in Delta.' I asked what he was talking about. That's when he told me that to stay on the squad I had to do him a favor. I asked what he wanted." The man lowered his head and said softly, "He said he wanted to take me to bed." 

It was a beautiful performance. Harrison had to fight a crazy impulse to applaud. But his amusement disappeared when he looked at Ironhorse, saw the absolutely rigid back. His heart went out to his friend, sitting quietly while the man lied in front of him. At that moment Harrison would have gladly punched out Nelson and damn the pacifism. 

"What happened after you refused him?" Kennedy urged. 

"The next two weeks were hell. I was written up for dereliction of duty and post desertion, both false. I did extra duty, extra hiking, extra push-ups, extra time on the range. Then the Colonel calmly informed me that I wasn't good enough and was being shipped out. He offered to change his mind if I changed mine." 

"And you still refused?" 

"Yes, sir," Nelson stared at Ironhorse. "I don't approve of homosexuals in the service. And I don't approve of blackmail." 

There was silence from the Board, then Kennedy asked, "Lt. Nelson, why did you wait so long to report this?" 

"That was a mistake, sir," Nelson said. Playing his role very well, Harrison thought. "At the time I thought no one would believe me. So, I did my best to overcome the mark against me but after two years I gave up. Colonel Ironhorse had effectively ruined my career. I didn't want him doing it to someone else." 

"Thank you, Mr. Nelson," Kennedy told him, his expression neutral. "Defense will be allowed to recall you tomorrow." 

"Thank you, sir." As he stepped down he glared at Ironhorse. The Colonel stared ahead, black eyes cold and steady. 

Ironhorse was called. His medals hung straight and bright against the dark blue uniform, the red beret offering sharp contrast as it rested across one square shoulder. As he took the stand his eyes scanned carelessly over each member of the audience, only when they touched Harrison and Suzanne did they soften the slightest bit. 

"Lt. Colonel Ironhorse," Kennedy started, "we have heard the testimony from Mr. Nelson. We'd like to hear your version of what happened." 

In a tone that Harrison had heard him use many times to explain moves to the team, Ironhorse started with his first meeting with Nelson. His version differed almost immediately. 

"I put him on verbal warning on August 11th for desertion of post." 

"Why just verbal?" Kennedy questioned. 

"It was his first offense, sir. His record up until then had been acceptable. After talking to him I was assured that it wouldn't happen again. I also had the feeling that he had been testing me, seeing if the squad was as tough as he had heard." He gave a quick look toward Harrison. "I'm willing to forgive a certain amount of rebellion as long as the person shapes up to my expectations." 

"And did he shape up?" 

"It seemed so," Ironhorse replied. "It's true that on September third we did go the range. Nelson's attitude had improved to the point where I believed that if we could raise his rifle scores he might workout." 

"And what happened afterwards?" 

"There was no afterwards," Ironhorse said firmly. "We shook hands and I went back to the base." 

"And the next two weeks?" 

Ironhorse's dark eyes locked with Nelson. "We went on an exercise with the 101st Airborne for two days and when we came back Nelson started having problems. I found out Monday that he had neglected to stow some armament as he had been instructed, resulting in a rifle being left on the range. I put him on report. Three days later, going over some of the reports from the maneuvers I discovered that he had been missing for two hours without explanation. I put him on report again." 

"What was Nelson's reactions to this?" 

Ironhorse almost sighed. "His attitude got worse instead of better. On the 12th he left his post to have a cigarette. It was almost as if he wanted to be transferred out." 

"Thank you, Colonel, you may step down." Colonel Kennedy glanced at his watch. "It is now 1130, we will adjourn for the day and cross examinations will start tomorrow morning with the prosecution." 

The two team members moved out, followed by Ironhorse and Warren. Nelson and his attorney, Captain Ross, followed. Harrison turned to Paul, putting them standing shoulder to shoulder. Ross gave them a quick appraising look that made Harrison suddenly regret having waited for the Colonel. But Ironhorse didn't move, if anything he leaned a little closer in open defiance. 

After they moved off Harrison released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Putting on a smile, he said, "That didn't seem very difficult. What can they ask? You have everything in writing..." 

"The fact that the first written report wasn't until after the supposed incident casts some doubt on it," Warren warned. 

"He was very careful about the date," Ironhorse said through clenched teeth. 

Warren stepped in front of him. "I have another client to see tonight. I'll see you tomorrow morning at 0830." 

He saluted and Ironhorse returned the gesture. The anger Ironhorse had held under tight control all day drained away, leaving weariness in its wake. They followed him out to his car. 

"So, who's my babysitters tomorrow?" 

Harrison started to speak but Suzanne cut him off. "We haven't decided yet." 

"Maybe I should sell tickets?" Ironhorse remarked with more sarcasm then he intended. 

"Paul..." 

A quickly raised hand stopped Harrison's surprise reprimand. "Sorry, I'm just a little edgy. I'll see you, or whoever, here tomorrow." 

Harrison watched him walked away, a sharp pain touching his chest at the straight, lonely figure. Suzanne touched his arm and they turned toward their car. Neither took any notice of the dark blue Dodge Omni that followed Ironhorse's Bronco through the main gate. 

"This is really driving him crazy," Suzanne observed quietly. 

"What was all that about?" Harrison questioned. "We agreed that it would be Norton and I tomorrow." 

"Harrison, we've been quietly thinking that, just because Paul is right, that truth, justice and the military way will win out. Well, after watching that performance in there this afternoon, I'm not so sure." 

A little surprised at her intensity, he asked, "What do you plan on doing?" 

"As the Colonel would say, the best defense is a strong offense and with Norton and the Cray's help, I intend to find something real offense on Lt. Mark Nelson." 

"That's the kind of aggressive thinking I like," Harrison said enthu siastically. *****

When the inquest convened the next morning Suzanne was the only team member in the court room. Ironhorse was both relived and disappointed that Harrison wasn't there. For a fraction of a second he must have looked worried because Suzanne smiled at him and gave him a very familiar thumbs up sign. He nodded briefly. The prosecution called him to the stand. 

"Colonel Ironhorse," Ross began, "you're Native American, aren't you?" 

The line of questioning took Ironhorse by surprise, he hadn't considered they would use this as an attack. "Yes, I am," he answered levelly. 

"And you were raised on the reservation by your grandfather, is that correct?" 

"Objection." Warren interrupted. "These questions have nothing to do with the accusation." 

"Colonel Kennedy," Ross addressed the Board, "this does all tie in with the accusation of homosexuality. If I may continue you will see the connection." 

Three heads came together, pulled back quickly. Colonel Kennedy nodded to Ironhorse. "You may answer the question, Colonel." 

"Yes, I was." 

"And you were raised in a traditional climate?" 

"As much as possible." 

"Colonel, among many tribes homosexuality, bisexuality and the like are all openly accepted. Is this true for your tribe?" 

"Yes," he said neutrally. 

"And were you taught this during your upbringing?" 

"Yes." If they wanted it, he would give it to them. "I was taught that in pre-reservation times women could be warriors, men could raise children and males, especially warriors, could take other males as mates." 

Ross took a well-timed paused before he nodded. "Colonel, you've never been married or engaged?" 

"Objection," Warren spoke up again. "Many career men in the Army have never been married." 

There was a slight hesitation from Colonel Kennedy before he said, "Objection sustained. Mr. Ross, a man's martial status is hardly an indi cation of his sexual status." 

"Colonel Ironhorse," Ross immediately launched a different attack, "have you ever been to an establishment called the Horse and Hound in New York?" 

There was a pause as Ironhorse thought about it. He had been to New York five times, the first in 1970, the last six months before when the team had testified in front of the UN Security Council. He had eaten out on all five occasions. Memories came back. 

"Last April, my team and I were there on an assignment. The estab lishment was a combination bar and restaurant a block from our hotel. We ate there several times." 

"We're only interested in one time," Mr. Ross told him vaguely. "You stayed in town for two days after the rest of your team returned to Cali fornia, is that correct?" 

"Yes. I had several budget meetings to attend." 

"Did you continue to stay in the same hotel?" 

"Yes." 

"And did you go back to the Horse and Hound?" 

"I believe so." 

"Colonel Ironhorse, are you gay?" 

The question came out of nowhere, caught him off guard. "No, sir," he answered coldly. 

"Have you ever had an affair, however briefly, with another man?" 

"No, I have not." 

Ross turned, pulled something from a folder on his desk. "Then can you explain to this Board this series of pictures taken during your stay in New York that show you leaving the Horse and Hound with another man and returning to your hotel." 

Ironhorse's black eyes went very wide. Suzanne's hand went over her mouth. All the military men in the room straightened in their seats. Warren was on his feet. Nelson smiled. 

"May I, sir?" Warren requested. 

Looking completely assured Ross handed a set to him and to the Board then, making it look like an afterthought, handed a set to Ironhorse. Jaw tight, Ironhorse flipped rapidly through the 8 by 10 black and white pho tos in his hand. The whole series had the slightly fuzzy look typical of telephoto shots. There were six shots and he was in all of them; the first three were at street level, a little clearer than the rest. The first showed him, wearing a light pullover and jeans entering the Horse and Hound, the second showed him coming out with a tall curly haired younger man, in the third they were entering the hotel. The angle on the pictures switched from ground level to further away, across the street and through the window of the hotel. The pictures went beyond suggestive; Ironhorse was handing a drink to the other man, then they were locked in a passion ate kiss. By the last picture they had their clothes off and had resumed the kiss. 

Ironhorse looked up, his expression shocked. "This never happened." 

"Defense would like to call a days recess to examine this new evi dence," Warren spoke up, cutting off anything else Ironhorse could say. 

Obviously as startled by this development as anyone, Colonel Kennedy nodded. "Recess granted. We will re-adjourn at 0900 tomorrow." 

Suzanne broke for the door, trying to remember where the nearest pay phone was. Behind her she heard Ironhorse repeat softly, "This never hap pened." 

The phone rang three times before Norton picked it up. "Norton, give me Harrison." 

Alerted by the tone in Suzanne's voice Norton yelled for Harrison. 

"Suzanne?" 

"Met us at the cabin, Harrison. And bring everything you've found out. It's gone bad." *****

Thunder rumbled in the distance as Harrison entered the small cabin without knocking. Suzanne was sitting at the table sipping coffee with Warren. Ironhorse was sitting near the fireplace, staring into the low flames; he didn't look up as Harrison came in. 

"What happened?" Harrison demanded. 

In answer Warren handed him the pictures. The silence in the room was broken only by the gathering wind outside. Tossing the pictures down Har rison looked toward the man sitting stiffly in the wooden rocker. He could feel Ironhorse's pain and anger. It brought memories of another fire, an innocent woman dead in the snow, another time when his friend had been suffering. He walked over and laid a hand on one tense shoulder. 

"It's not me, Harrison." Despite the determination in the dark eyes there was a tone in Paul's voice like an innocent child blamed for a bro ken window. 

"I know, Paul," Harrison said quietly. He turned back toward Warren. "So, they have some faked photos. That's not..." 

"They have negatives," Warren stated. With a sigh he said, "I've suggested to the Colonel that at this point it might be better to offer his resignation so as to avoid a court-martial." 

"No," Ironhorse said firmly. 

Harrison snatched up the folder he'd carried in, scattering computer printouts across the desk. "Norton and I spent the entire day researching Lt. Nelson. And we found some very interesting things not mentioned in his military record..." 

"Like his being charged with embezzlement?" Warren asked calmly. "A charge which was dropped due to lack of evidence." 

The man's obvious knowledge stopped Harrison momentarily. "What about his divorce? His wife claimed that he..." 

"Falsified records and bank statements to conceal his real worth so she would be awarded less. A claim that was never proven." 

"You already knew all this?" Harrison asked in confusion. 

"Dr. Blackwood," Warren said in sympathy, "I have documented all of those facts, which is one of the reasons I was convinced that the case would be easy. I was simply waiting for the time to use them. A move, I might add that has to be done very carefully. Now, however, with those pictures..." 

"They're faked," Ironhorse said through clenched teeth, coming off the chair. 

"Negatives can't be faked," Warren said without looking up. Sensing that he was trending on dangerous ground he picked up Harrison's folder, gathered the printouts. "What it comes down to is that a picture is worth a thousand words and the Colonel only has two, "I'm innocent." That puts us just a little behind." 

"A double!" Harrison said suddenly. "Nelson hired someone who looked enough like the Colonel that in a fuzzy telephoto you wouldn't be able to tell the difference." 

"But how would he know about the restaurant?" Suzanne wondered. 

Harrison spread his hands. "I don't know. Maybe he used his com puter. He does crytography, maybe he's been doing something else." 

"That's pretty far-fetched, Harrison." Suzanne said doubtfully. 

"No," Warren nodded thoughtfully. "It's been done before. But it's going to take time to prove." 

"Where do you even start?" she wondered. 

Warren actually smiled. "A good attorney is also a good sleuth. There's bank accounts, cash withdrawals, you'd be surprised at what you do out of habit that's traceable." 

"But you won't be able to get the information before the Board passes it's ruling." Ironhorse joined them. 

"No, unfortunately," Warren admitted. 

"Which means," Harrison picked up, "that Paul will be held over for court-martial." 

"Yes." 

"How long will that take?" Harrison demanded. 

"Eight to ten weeks, if we push," Warren informed them. 

"And he'll be confined?!" Suzanne said angrily. 

"No, Suzanne," Ironhorse said, touched by her concern. "I'm sure with my record and General Wilson's help I can be released on my own recognizance." 

"But you'll still be off duty," Harrison reminded him. "And with that long of a wait General Wilson will have no choice but to assign us someone else." 

Ironhorse nodded, moving back to the fireplace. The storm echoed closer, moving in on the mountain, casting a pre-twilight gloom in the cabin. The idea of someone else guarding the team sent a shiver down his spine. He remembered stallions in the moonlight, shook the image away. 

"But why?" Harrison questioned suddenly. "Why go to all this trou ble?" 

No one had an answer. Warren stood. "I won't kid you, Colonel, this defense is shaky at best, assuming I can even find anything." Brown eyes met black. "But no matter what, I'll abide by your decision and we'll do our absolute best." 

"Thank you." 

A flash of lightning struck close nearby, followed by a long, rolling thunder clap. 

"You'd better all go," Ironhorse prompted, starting toward the door to urge them along. "This storm lets loose, you could be struck here all night." 

"But we haven't settled anything," Harrison complained. 

"There's nothing to settle, Harrison. We go with what we have and buy time for Warren to find that other man." Ironhorse told him calmly. 

"And in the meantime we end up with a new OIC," Suzanne stated hotly. 

"OIC?" The side of Ironhorse's mouth curved up for the first time that day. 

"Don't look so smug," Suzanne snapped. "My father was in the Navy." With a quick hug she told Ironhorse, "I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Harrison." 

Before Ironhorse could protest she closed the door, leaving the two of them alone. "Go home, Doctor," Ironhorse said in his best command voice. 

Harrison, as usual, ignored him and walked toward the small kitchen. He rummaged through the cabinets until he found the tin of tea bags that he had left there three months earlier. The storm let loose, deafening as the rain pounded against the tin and tar paper roof. Behind him Ironhorse found an outlet for his tension and started pacing. 

"This has you scared," Harrison observed. 

"Yes." Was the quiet reply. 

"Tell me." 

Black eyes glanced up, flickered away. "If I'm found guilty I'll not only be thrown out of the service but imprisoned." 

"Jesus Christ." Harrison hadn't thought about that part of it. 

The low, deep voice continued as if Harrison hadn't spoken. "That's not what I'm worried about. It would be not knowing... what would happen if I weren't there as..." 

"Our lucky charm?" Harrison joked softly. 

Paul nodded, moving to the couch, unable to met the blue eyes. The kettle whistled. Harrison reluctantly moved away to make the tea. He came back and sat down on the couch next to Ironhorse, held the cup in front of him. Slender fingers wrapped around it, seeking the warmth. He grimaced as he took a swallow. 

"I hate hot tea." 

"Drink it," Harrison told him in his best mother tone. "It's good for you." 

"I hate things that are good for me." 

Harrison slapped Ironhorse's knee, trying very hard to sound cheerful. "Come on, Paul. We're both so use to dealing with worse cases that we're doing the same thing here. You'll spend a few weeks up here enjoying the weather; while the rest of us spend it living with some spit and polish type who'll remind us of you when we first met." 

Staring into the fire, sipping the tea, Paul said thoughtfully, "Was I that bad?" 

Harrison was startled by the seriousness in his tone. "No," he admitted quietly, "you weren't that bad." 

"Things have changed a lot since that first meeting." Paul said softly to himself. "I've changed." 

Before Harrison could decide whether to reply there was a brilliant flash and the lights went out. Ironhorse was on his feet, hand reaching for the gun that wasn't there. 

"It's just the storm," Harrison offered. "It happens up here all the time." 

Ironhorse was thankful for the semi-darkness, thankful that he wouldn't have to try to return Harrison's optimism. For eighteen months he had denied friendship, denied caring and being cared for, had been the lamb that was about to be hung for a wolf. It was almost laughable. Mov ing away from the too close warmth of his companion, Ironhorse squatted down, opened the grate and laid on another log. 

The dark gave courage to a question he knew he shouldn't ask. "Harri son, what would you think if it was me in the pictures?" 

There was a long silence. "I'm not sure I understand the question, Paul." 

"Neither am I," Ironhorse answer with a sigh. 

"What I meant," Harrison explained, "is I don't know whether you're asking what I'd think if it were you in those pictures or what I'd think if you were telling me you were gay." 

Firelight glittered in the dark eyes. "What's the difference?" 

"The difference is that if you were the man in the picture then I would say it was a set up for some reason." 

"You sound sure of that," Ironhorse said quietly. 

"I am," Harrison said without hesitation. "I know you, Paul. You're not the type for a one night stand, gay or not." 

"What about the other part of the question?" Ironhorse pressed before his nerve deserted him. 

Harrison's eyes were surprisingly bright in the dim light. "If you were trying to say you're gay? I'd say that nothing you could tell me would alter the respect I've gained for you over the past year. Nor would it change anything in the future." With a mischievous smile, he added, "You're still my hero, Colonel." 

The teasing affection brought a smile to Paul's lips. He moved around behind Harrison and, as he had done once before, he rubbed the tight shoulder. "Thank you." 

Harrison looked over his shoulder, was struck by the warmth on Paul's face, the solid strength heightened by the magic firelight. He knew then that his friendship with Paul was the strongest relationship he had ever known. Thoughts on his own life flashed through his mind. Char's love, he realized, had been mostly physical; hadn't weathered even the first storm. The place where Karen would forever live in his heart was still raw and he shied away from it. Suzanne, Norton, and Ironhorse now claimed all his love, were the first family he'd ever really had. 

And somehow, between the arguments and shouting, Paul had became something more. Harrison couldn't image him not being there fighting, protecting, caring. He watched at the man moving back to the mantle, the strong face hidden by the fire shadows. Ironhorse gay? Strange, erotic images presented themselves, stunning in their clarity and frightening in their seductiveness. Harrison pushed them away; the last thing either of them needed was impossible fantasies. 

The lights flashed on, breaking the fragile spell. Embarrassed without knowing why, Harrison stood and stretched. He realized that in the hectic events of the day he had missed his afternoon nap. Outside the rain continued to pound down, heightening his desire for a warm bed. He yawned. 

"You missed your nap," Ironhorse said lightly. 

"I'm afraid so," Harrison admitted. "I'd better get go..." 

"It's still raining," Ironhorse reminded him. "And I know you, you'd get a few miles down the road and pull off for a quick forty." Before Harrison could deny it, he pointed toward the single bed. "Go on, take your nap, then start back." 

Harrison hesitated, in a joking tone asked, "Sure I won't compromise your reputation?" 

"My reputation isn't going to be worth much the next few months," Ironhorse said without humor. 

"Paul, I didn't..." 

"Go to sleep, Harrison," 

"Yes, sir." Harrison didn't bother pulling down the covers, merely stretched out on top with a sigh. Paul turned out all but one small light. A moment later he was drifting away. 

Something warm settled over him. Blue eyes slitted barely open and Harrison watched the man standing over him. The difference in Ironhorse as he spread the comforter was amazing; ebony eyes glowed in the fire light, the hard lines softened by a gentle smile. With a final tug the cover was settled to Ironhorse's satisfaction but he stood a moment longer, looking at Harrison. His smile turned sad, wistful. He turned away abruptly. Harrison let the open affection lead him into sleep, too tired to think about the regret in Paul's smile or the flash of heat the warm look had sent through him. 

*****

Rain was still pattering on the roof when Harrison rolled toward the light. Beethoven's Sixth was playing on the small stereo and the smell of bacon frying filled the small room. It was the only smell Harrison could think of that almost made him regret being a vegetarian. 

"You awake?" Ironhorse leaned over him for a closer look. 

Sitting up, Harrison said, "Yes." 

Ironhorse glanced at his watch. "You overslept by ten minutes." He turned toward the stove. "I fixed supper." 

A little cautiously, Harrison moved to the table. Ironhorse dropped a huge omelet from an iron skillet into the waiting plate. Trying to cover his suspicion Harrison asked, innocently, "I smelled bacon." 

"Harrison!" Ironhorse dumped another omelet into his own plate. "Do you think I'd do something as sneaking..." 

"No!" Harrison assured him quickly, afraid he'd upset his friend. "I didn't think..." He found himself looking up at a twinkle in the dark eyes. "On the other hand, you do have a warpped sense of humor." 

"That's defiantly a case of the pot and the kettle," Paul commented drily. "Mine has bacon, ham, onions, peppers and cheese. Yours has all the above minus the meat." 

Harrison smiled, took a large mouth full. 

"With cayenne pepper." 

Harrison blanched. 

"Just kidding." 

They ate in companionable silence. In the middle of his final bite Harrison drew back, staring into space as something from the edge of sleep tried to work itself clear. 

"Harrison? You okay?" 

"Huh? Yes, fine. Just thinking." 

"About the case," Ironhorse stated. 

"I doesn't make any sense," Harrison sighed. "If Nelson was so enamored of the Army life, why was he so cavalier about his duties? There's more to this." 

"I've been saying that," Ironhorse reminded him. 

Harrison stood and stared pacing. "Colonel, is it possible for one unit of the Army to not know about an investigation going on in another branch?" 

"Certainly," Ironhorse nodded. "If it's something someone wants kept quiet or if the investigation is in the early stages. Harrison, I don't see where you..." Ironhorse stopped. Harrison had that crazy look that usually preceded a stunning discovery. 

"Computer degree... embezzlement... falsifying records... wanting to get out... where's my..." He mumbled, patting his coat, shut his eyes in frustration. "Damn, I left it at the Cottage!" 

He was moving, frantic to get back and start checking his wild theory. "I'll see you tomorrow, Paul." 

"Harrison! Wait..." The door slammed on any further information. 

Seconds later Harrison turned the Bronco and started down the mountain, reminding himself to be careful of the wet, dangerous roads. He didn't notice the Dodge hidden in the dark trees. 

*****

The dreams that night were neither lyrical or symbolic, and they were impossible to ignore not when the evidence lay around him in sweat stained sheets. Paul slid out of the bed, running a hand through his wild, black hair. The figure that shared his dreams had started out a tall, young Native American, with hair like Ironhorse's own and eyes that glittered in the sunlight. Ironhorse had loved him slowly, feeling the power in the world around them. But the form changed, the roles reversing and he lay under a strong, fair body with laughing blue eyes and curly, soft hair; moonlight had flooded green fields. He had screamed his release and awakened. 

The room was suddenly stifling and he grabbed a dark blue robe and stepped into the night. 

"Oh, Grandfather, why now?" With a rueful smile he added, "Why him?" 

It couldn't be allowed to happen. There was too much at risk, too much to lose. A whole world to lose. His mind went back to the old stories, to warriors joined, spirit and body. If one was lost the other fought on, taking the fallen ones spirit, gaining strength in his loss. Was that wrong, he wondered; to have a love so deep that it kept strength and hope alive beyond death? 

The stars were incredibly bright, even after the relative dark countryside of the Cottage and he stared at them for a long time before frowning. This was not the buffalo plains and he was not a mated warrior. This was 1990 and he remembered all too well the white man's feelings on such things. Overhead the stars sparkled, laughing at his confusion. 

*****

There was no one from the Cottage in the audience when the inquest convened at 0900. Ironhorse went through a maze of emotions - disappoint ment, anger, relief, and finally worry. It was very possible that the aliens were on the move after their long silence. The team and his squad would be in the field without him. His worry turned to anger. By the time the prosecutor recalled him Ironhorse's temper was on a fine edge. 

"Colonel Ironhorse," Ross paused dramatically, flipping through a legal pad, "the last thing you said was, I quote, "This never happened." Are you denying the visual evidence of these pictures? Pictures don't lie, sir." 

"I was in 'Nam, sir," Ironhorse replied levelly, "Pictures can be made to say anything a person wants them to." 

That actually slowed Ross for a minute. "Surely, Colonel, you're not suggesting to this Board that it's not you in the pictures?" 

"Objection," Warren spoke up, "Mr. Ross is badgering the witness." 

"Objection sustained," Colonel Kennedy ruled. "The pictures are in evidence, as is Colonel Ironhorse's response. Future questioning along this line would be unproductive." 

Ross simply changed his attack without a reaction. "You seem a little upset, Colonel, that neither Dr. McCullough nor Dr. Blackwood are here. Or is it just Dr. Blackwood?" 

Warren had warned him of this approach but he hadn't thought they would stoop that low. It was bad enough being covered by the muck they were dealing with but seeing it splatter his innocent friend was more than Ironhorse was ready to take. He let the anger reach his eyes, glanced at Ross and was pleased to see the attorney take an involuntary half-step back. 

"I am not upset, sir. I am concerned," Ironhorse said firmly. "As you know, our mission involves potentially dangerous situations. The Blackwood team and my Omega squad are the best in the world at what they do but as their commander I should be out there with them - not sitting here answering libelous, ridiculous accusations." 

Ironhorse was not sure if it was the ice in his eyes or the steel in his calm statement but Ross actually broke off. "That's all the questions I have for Colonel Ironhorse. At this time the prosecution rest, Colonel Kennedy." 

"The defense may call it's first witness," Kennedy told Warren. 

"Lt. Mark Nelson." 

Warren was brilliant in his tactics. Previous criminal charges were not formally admissible against a plaintiff but Warren managed to slip in everything he had while questioning Nelson. While the Board listened closely, noting the general trend toward dishonesty, they were unconvinced. Warren had not run out of surprises though. 

"Gentlemen, I would like to request an early recess. I have a witness being flown in and he won't be arriving until 12:30." 

"May we ask the identity of this witness and the reason he wasn't brought in earlier?" Colonel Kennedy requested. 

"Not all of the men in Delta Squad were lost during the first Blackwood mission, sir. Corporeal Ken West, Colonel Ironhorse's assistant from 1984 until 1988 had transferred out due to family matters. He was present when Sergeant Nelson was put on verbal warning." Warren admitted hesitantly, "He wasn't summoned earlier because I didn't think his testimony would be necessary." 

"Colonel Kennedy, the issue here is not whether my client was on warning." Ross stood. "The issue is what prompted the final warning. Lt. Nelson.." 

The double doors burst open, drawing everyone's attention. Harrison was glaring at the MP blocking his entrance; equally defiant, Suzanne was standing just behind him with Norton on his other side, barely visible past the burly guard. Harrison was holding a thin manila folder and his excitement flooded the room. 

"May I have a moment, Colonel?" Warren requested. 

"Granted." 

The attorney and the doctor huddled near the door, Suzanne and Norton pressing close. Harrison was speaking lowly but Ironhorse could read the intensity in his every gesture. The more pronounced Harrison's gestures became the more Ironhorse's spirit lifted. Warren opened the folder and a smile spread slowly across his face. After a minute Warren slapped Norton's shoulder. Warren turned toward the Board. 

"I withdraw the request for an early recess and beg the Boards indulgence but I would like to continue. We've wasted enough time here." 

"Prosecutor?" 

"Agreed," Ross said gruffly. 

"Call your next witness, Mr. Warren." 

"Mr. Norton Drake, please." 

Norton rolled forward to the front of the witness stand, raised his hand and repeated the oath. Mr. Warren came forward with the manila folder that Harrison had been carrying. "Mr. Drake, you hold a degree in computer science, is that correct?" 

"Yes, sir," Norton said politely. "A Ph.D. in computer engineering from PTI." 

Warren turned to the Board, opened the folder. "Gentlemen, before I start my questioning of the witness I would like to offer these pictures for your consideration." 

Ross came to his feet. "Objection. What do these pictures have to do with this case?" 

Without answering Warren turned and handed a set to Ross, one each to Nelson and Ironhorse. There were six shots at various ranges, all very clear and all displaying a certain strange sense of humor. The first two were of Nelson, one with him dancing the tango with a gorilla and one of him sharing a drink with President Bush. There was one of Harrison firing a gun, another of Suzanne in a tutu, one of Norton running and finally Ironhorse with long, braided hair, sitting on the back of a spotted pony. Except for a quickly stifled giggle from someone the room was silent. 

Finally Ross found the breath to protest. "This is ridiculous! These are obvious fabrications!" 

"We have the negatives," Warren said quietly. 

Ross snapped his month shut, turned for a conference with his client. 

Ignoring him, Warren turned back to Norton. "Mr. Drake, would you explain how these pictures were produced." 

"Certainly," Norton shifted his chair until he could look from the Board members to the audience. "A picture can be fed into a computer using a scanner and then broken down digitally so that various sections of the photo can be manipulated. Pictures in this state can be combined with other pictures, aged, re-colored or enhanced." 

"But how do you explain the negatives?" Warren questioned. 

Norton's eyes lit up like a child with a new toy. "That's the beautiful part. It's a system that can take digital images and set them directly onto film using a laser exposure system. The technology has been around two or three years but its use has been limited by cost and the potential for abuse. The TV networks had a fit over several faked photos not long ago." 

"Mr. Drake," Warren continued. "what kind of training would it take to use this equipment?" 

"That would depend on whether the software was already in place or had to be written." 

"But, no matter which, it shouldn't be too difficult for a man with a Doctorate in computer science like yourself or with a Masters like Lt. Nelson," Warren insisted. 

"No," Norton answered. "The nice thing about this is that you could set up the pictures on any home computer. You'd only need the laser processor for the negatives." 

"Mr. Drake, where did you process these pictures?" 

"I set them up on our computer then used a modem to phone it to the computer at Ft. Benton. They were flown in this morning." 

Smiling pleasantly, Warren said, "If I may remind the Board, Ft. Benton was Lt. Nelson's last post." He turned back to Norton. "Thank you, Mr. Drake." 

"Thank you, Captain Warren," Norton smiled widely, gave a wink toward Ironhorse and rolled back to the aisle. 

Ross and Nelson were arguing; Nelson shaking his head at Ross. After a minute it changed to a hard, short nod. Ross stood up. 

"Council would like to request a conference in Chambers." 

"Mr. Warren," Colonel Kennedy and the two majors stood, "if you would join us please." 

The Board filed out leaving a stiff MP, three amused team members, Ironhorse and Nelson alone in the room. Suzanne and Harrison took two aisle seats halfway back, Norton parked beside them. When Ironhorse looked over his shoulder at them, Harrison couldn't resist giving him a thumbs up sign. His joy and relief threatened Ironhorse's valiant attempt not to smile. 

Ironhorse looked toward his opponent, curious as to the effect this new development was having. Nelson was regarding him, not with anger, but with ice cold detachment. Ironhorse had considered Nelson a crackpot, one of those people that decided that the failure in their lives could be tracked to a single person. But Ironhorse had seen that cold detachment before - in 'Nam. It was the flip side of the soldier who couldn't stand the killing any longer. Men who wore that look were the ones who became immune to the killing, who saw it only as an interesting diversion. The instant Ironhorse recognized the look he knew that Nelson was more dangerous than he had thought. 

Harrison sat back with a sigh, it was all over expect for the last few formalities. It had been a long night and all he wanted to do now was pack up Ironhorse, go home and get back to normal. With a smile he added men tally, or as normal as they could. Watching Ironhorse sitting stiffly in the chair, Harrison let himself consider his dream of the night before. 

It wasn't very often that he had an erotic dream. And never before had a male shared a dream with him. He remembered this dream and this male very vividly, the slender grace under him, the hard muscles, dark hair... He stopped himself, silently cursing Nelson forever bringing the notion to light. After this, would anything ever be normal again? It had to be - he would allow nothing else. 

The Board came back out. Colonel Kennedy rapped the gavel three times. "Lt. Colonel Ironhorse, please rise." Ironhorse came easily to his feet, stood at attention. "A motion has been made by the prosecution to drop all charges. This motion has been accepted by the defense." Kennedy paused. "At this point you have the option, Colonel of having Lt. Nelson submitted for disciplinary action." 

"I'm not interested in further action, sir," Ironhorse said stiffly, "only in getting back to my job." 

"Very well," Kennedy said, pleased with Ironhorse's decision. "The charges against you are formally dropped. You may return to your post, Colonel." 

There was a quickly stifled yell of joy from Suzanne; Norton gave Harrison a high five as Ironhorse shook hands with Warren. Suzanne launched herself at Paul, taking him in a hard hug while Norton rolled up and shook hands with Warren. There was a general exchange of congratulations before Harrison and Ironhorse found themselves facing each other. Over Ironhorse's shoulder Harrison could see Nelson glaring at them; he was also aware that the Board was still shuffling through paperwork at the desk. He extended his hand toward Ironhorse. 

Ironhorse couldn't see Nelson's stare but he could feel the chilling look on his back. He could also feel the affection and gratitude that swamped him, a feeling heightened slightly by guilt at the fatigue in Harrison's eyes. Ignoring the possible stir, Ironhorse took Harrison's hand firmly, used it to pull him into a quick, strong hug. The pleasure in the wide blue eyes was worth the possible embarrassment. 

When Ironhorse let go of Harrison he turned to Norton. "Mr. Drake, how do I..." 

"You're welcome," Norton cut him off with a smile. "Just take it off the tab I owe you, big guy. Beside's it was Harrison and his magic tuning fork that remembered an article on the laser process." 

"Let's go home," Suzanne said a little hoarsely, lacing an arm through Harrison's and Ironhorse's arms. 

"Can't," Ironhorse explained. "I'll be struck here a little longer clearing up the paperwork. I'd also like to say hello to Ken West; he's come a long way to help me and it's been a while since I've seen him. I'll go by the cabin after that and pick up my gear." 

"I'll meet you there," Harrison said. "I can catch up on my missed naps and help you pack." 

Ironhorse caught sight of Nelson as the man left. He was smiling faintly and a wave of apprehension went through Ironhorse. Suzanne noted the direction of his gaze. Softly she said, "There's a lot more to this than meets the eye. "We'll explain everything when we get home. I'm just glad you're out of it," she concluded. *****

Six hours later Ironhorse swung the Bronco onto the gravel driveway at the cabin. It had been a good day, thanks to the team; first the victory in court, then a long talk with his old friend, finishing up with pictures of Ken's son, Paul. Best yet, now he could get back to work, away from the woods and mountains, away from dreams of stallions and a fair body, images that could never be more than that. He parked and stretched. 

There was a single light on in the cabin. Something tingled along the back of Ironhorse's neck. His headlights had shown in through the large window but there was no movement inside. He glanced at his watch; it seemed unlikely that Harrison was still asleep, unless he'd been a lot worse off than he had looked. 

Ironhorse reached under his seat, withdrew his battle baton, wishing it were a gun. All his weapons were at the Cottage, dutifully checked in with Derriman and he had never kept a personal weapon, much to his present regret. There was not even the chance of sneaking up on any possible opponent; the headlights would have announced his presence to anyone in the area. He tucked the long knife under his coat, got out and walked steadily toward the front door. 

In the last few yards, he ducked to the left, went in a crouch to the window, peered carefully inside. His jaw tightened. Harrison was on the bed opposite the door, tied and gagged, ankles together, wrists together behind his back. Nelson was sitting next to him, gun in hand, waiting. He stood and pointed the gun at Harrison's head. 

"Colonel! I know you're out there. You have five to get in here or I shoot Blackwood. One, two..." 

Ironhorse swung the door in. He spared a single glance at the weapon in Nelson's hand before casually shifting his eyes to Harrison. His concerned look was returned; Harrison was conscious at least. The blue eyes staring at him were filled with revulsion and fear. But the fear wasn't for himself. Harrison feared the aliens but for humans like Nelson he had only contempt. The fear was for him. 

"Welcome, Colonel," Nelson said calmly. "Harrison and I have been waiting for you." 

"What do you want, Nelson?" Ironhorse demanded. 

"Typical, straight to the point," Nelson sighed. His voice hardened. "I want you dead, Colonel." 

Two days ago Ironhorse would have been surprised by the statement. Not now. He had seen, in that one instant at the inquest, that Nelson's hatred of him went beyond the disgrace of a court-martial. Ironhorse raised one eyebrow at him. 

"May I ask what exactly it is that I've done to earn your hatred so thoroughly?" 

Nelson raised a hand toward Harrison. The doctor flinched back as far as the ropes would allow; Ironhorse took an involuntary step forward. The gun came up toward him. 

With a smile Nelson said, "I'll let the good doctor explain it since he figured most of it out." He pulled the gag off. 

"Get out of here, Paul," Harrison's voice was hoarse, breathless. 

Nelson slapped him, snapping his head back, sending blood down his chin. 

"If you hit him again," Ironhorse said calmly, "I'll kill you." 

The threat should have been ridiculous given the circumstances. It wasn't. 

"Tell him," Nelson snapped to cover his fear. 

Harrison regained his composure. "It would seem, Colonel, that Nelson here is under investigation for murder. And you are about to be called as a witness." 

"Murder?" While Ironhorse hadn't been sure of what to expect, this wasn't it. He shifted his weight, very, very slowly moving. 

"Come on, Colonel," Nelson encouraged. "You remember that unfortunate accident during those maneuvers with the 101st Airborne." 

"There was an observer killed," Ironhorse stated, thinking back. "And you were unaccounted for during that time until a misfiled report turned up listing you as being on a supply run to base." 

"But you couldn't drop it there, could you," Nelson said hotly, coming off the bed. "You had to double check it with the supply sergeant." 

"How much did you have to pay him?" Harrison questioned. 

"Plenty." 

"Only that Sergeant was found dead three weeks ago," Harrison added for Ironhorse's information. 

"Which leaves only you, Colonel, to remember the incident," Nelson explained. "It seems the Army somehow has the notion that I may be involved in more than one 'accident.'" 

"He kills for money, Colonel," Harrison explained. "Servicemen with greedy wives are his favorite target. He didn't have any takers in your area after the observer so he wanted out." 

"You've been a hard man to find, Colonel, even with my computers," Nelson complained. "But I found out about your trip to New York. That's when I thought of the charge. I knew the Army would have to call you out of your hole on such a serious accusation." He smiled. "The pictures were a beautiful touch, don't you think. They kept everyone off balance long enough for me to track you here." 

The movement had been so slow that Nelson still hadn't realized that Ironhorse had changed position, getting nearer the light switch against the door. 

"So, what now?" Ironhorse demanded. "It's not going to look very good for you if I'm..." 

"We're," Nelson corrected, gesturing with the gun toward Harrison. "The Doctor will be joining you. When the two of you are found dead here, Colonel, it will look like the terrorists you've been hunting have caught up with you." 

"They'll never believe it," Harrison laughed, drawing Nelson's attention. Ironhorse moved a few more inches. "You'll never be able to duplicate the way these terrorists kill." 

"I know they use guns and that's enough," Nelson said. 

Harrison laughed and shook his head, irritating the man. Nelson swung toward Harrison, the gun coming down in line. Ironhorse slammed the light switch... 

"Harrison!" 

...throwing the room into darkness. 

Nelson fired, the bullet burning a trail across Harrison's shoulders as he fell off the bed with a twist. Landing hard, he rolled under the table. Silence claimed the room, punctuated only by the faint sound of hard breathing. Another shot flared in the darkness, cutting a groove in the wooden floor near Harrison's head. 

Two more shots, then the unmistakable sound of men locked in a struggle. Harrison jerked hard at the ropes around his hands, helpless as the fight crashed around the room. Another shot, a grunt of pain, the ominous sound of a body hitting the floor and silence. Holding his breath, Harrison listened for something, anything to give him a clue as to who was still alive. 

"Harrison?" A tension roughened voice called softly. 

"Here," Harrison sighed in relief. 

A cold hand brushed against his cheek, slipped down his back to his bound hands, the sharp knife parted the hemp. There was something wet on the blade. Harrison could feel Ironhorse's hands shake as he cut the rope away from his ankles. 

"Are you okay, Paul?" 

"No." 

Harrison scrambled up, knocking a chair over in his haste, light covered the small room. Harrison closed his eyes, fighting back a flood of nausea. The room was splattered with blood. Nelson lay face up, dead eyes staring at the ceiling. There was a gaping wound in his chest where Ironhorse's knife had found its target. Harrison tore his eyes away, looking toward Ironhorse. 

His friend was clinging to the edge of the bed, forehead resting against the wool blanket, right arm hugged tightly to his chest. Even in the single lamp light Harrison could see the blood glistening wetly on his dark blue coat. Ignoring the irritating pain from his shoulder, Harrison lunged for the cellular phone, waiting an eternity for the answer. 

"Derriman." 

"Sergeant, we need an evac unit to the cabin immediately." Harrison was surprised at how calm he sounded. "The Colonel's been shot." 

"Yes, sir!" Derriman also sounded calm but Harrison could hear the concern under it. There were orders barked in the background. "Doctor, we need a landing site." 

"The road is two hundred yards south of here, use it." 

"Affirmative. ETA fifteen minutes." 

"Fifteen minutes! Can't you..." Harrison took a deep breath. "Very well, Sergeant, do your best. And alert the rest of the team." 

"Yes, sir." 

He dropped the remote and came back to Ironhorse. Painfilled, dazed black eyes looked up at him. One side of the tight lips lifted in a weak smile. "You... sound like... me." 

Kneeling behind him, Harrison slowly removed the heavy uniform jacket, unbuttoned the white shirt rapidly being stained crimson. Terror filled his stomach as he saw the extent of the wound. 

"Come on, Paul," he said softly, "lie down." 

A barely stifled cry escaped Ironhorse's clenched teeth as Harrison eased him down to the hard wood floor. Pulling the handkerchief out of Ironhorse's pocket, Harrison pushed it down into the wound, pressed the heel of his hand against the exit wound on the side. Ironhorse jerked, breathing hard, blood appearing on his lips. 

"Can't breath... up..." 

"Okay, easy." Harrison moved so that his back was against the bed then eased Ironhorse up to rest against his chest. Dragging a blanket off the bed he wrapped it around both of them. 

"Oh God... Harrison..." 

Tears threatened Harrison desperate calm. "Sorry... I'm sorry, Paul." 

"Not... your doing." Ironhorse arched back against the other man. Harrison wrapped warm arms around him, still keeping pressure on the seeping wounds. 

Trying to get his breathing under control, Ironhorse concentrated on the wound, feeling it out. He had been hit in the right chest, could taste blood, could feel the scrap of bone against bone. Blood was running hotly down his side from the exit wound. It was not good. Emotions forced themselves through the pain that was trying to claim him - regret, anger, sorrow. A fragment of a dream, of being held in the same strong arms flared in his mind. It wasn't fair. He'd never had a chance to decide, there had been no time to think. 

"...listen to me, Paul." 

He took a deep breath, felt the fire rip through him. "Har..." 

"Shush. Listen to me," Harrison's voice was cool water on a raging fire. "There is only my voice, nothing else." Harrison faltered for a moment. "Listen, Paul, you can hear my heartbeat. Listen to it. Slow. Steady. One, two, one, two. Listen to it, to the beat." 

Vaguely, Ironhorse was aware that Harrison was trying to hypnotize him, doing the only thing he could to ease the pain, to try to slow the adrenaline fed heartbeat and panicked breathing. Ironhorse found the strength to open his eyes, found himself drowning in blue sorrow. Despite the pain it caused, the groan it forced from his dry throat, he moved his hand out from under the blanket. 

A strong hand held his still. "No, Paul, please try to listen to me." 

"No good... can't concentrate, hurts..." 

"I have to do something," Harrison pleaded helplessly. 

"You're here," Paul said softly. 

Harrison caught the meaning in his words. "No! Ironhorse, you are going to be fine. Understand that?" Gently he added, "It's not a good day to die, Paul." 

Ironhorse slipped his hand out of Harrison's grasp, raising it toward the pale cheek of his dream lover. He knew then there was no decision to make, that somehow on the long, dangerous trail he and Harrison had trav eled, it had already been made. It was suddenly very important that Har rison know the truth, know what he had come to mean to him. 

The obsidian eyes looked up, saw the tears in the gray-blue above him. Paul's voice was clear, the words blunt and honest. "I love you, Harrison." 

He struggled to keep his eyes open but the dark beckoned. It was easier to follow it, to drift into the peace; no pain, no fighting impossible odds, no facing the love he'd only now had the courage to admit to. 

Harrison stared down into the fathomless eyes, the new confessed love shining in the ebony. Before he could gather his shaken thoughts, put words to the feelings surging inside, the dark eyes slid closed and the slender, helpless body grew heavy in his arms. Tears blurred his vision but he calmly, raised his hand to feel the weak pulse at Paul's throat. He pulled the man closer, keeping him straight to keep the blood out of his lungs. 

The words echoed through his nerves. He sounded it out, trying to fit it into his world, his perception of Ironhorse and himself. Paul loved him. And not in a brotherly meaning; there had been real longing in his look. Harrison wondered if Ironhorse had confessed only because he thought he wouldn't have to live with it, if he thought... A chill went through him. 

"No," Harrison whispered calmly at the still form. "No, you're not." 

He rubbed his cheek across the course black hair, leaving trails of sparkling tears that he hadn't felt on his cheeks. A surprisingly steady hand stroked along the square jaw, tipped Paul's chin up. Harrison kissed him gently. Fear at the taste of blood on the pale, cool lips made him press harder, tears falling on the other man's cheeks. 

Heat overpowering the cold, coursing through Ironhorse, coaxing him away from the edge, back to the pain and the light. 

He groaned. "Hurts..." 

"I know," Harrison's voice was laced with tears. 

He forced his eyes open. His hand had slipped off Harrison's neck, was now held in a firm grasp. There were tears on his cheeks that weren't his. But the blue eyes that met his held no sorrow, only anger and determination. 

"If you think," Harrison's voice was ragged, "that you can just... make an announcement like that then fade away like a heroin in a bad romance novel, it's obvious you haven't been paying attention over the past year." 

Through the pain, Paul saw the love behind the anger. "Harrison?" 

The one word held a thousand questions, none of which seemed very important to Harrison anymore. All the answers were clear in the kiss he lay against the parted lips. In the distance the beat of chopper blades filled the night. His hand tangled in the raven hair. 

Paul tried to move closer, drawing on Harrison's strength. A whimper leaked out past their joined mouths. Harrison pulled away. Ironhorse managed to smile at him, a slow, easy smile that touched Harrison in its rarity. He fought to stay awake. 

"Let it go, Paul," Harrison urged, knowing this time it was different. "Sleep. I'll be here." 

"I know." Paul let himself go into the soft darkness. 

*****

"Harrison?" 

Harrison turned away from the window toward Suzanne's hesitant call. Her face grew pale and he looked down at this blood caked clothes. 

"It's all his," he said hoarsely, his voice deep with worry. 

They were holding each other then, offering and seeking comfort. She eased away, touching the blood on his chin. "All his?" 

Harrison rubbed at the slight cut, winched. "Okay, not all." 

"How is he?" She tugged Harrison toward the couch, made him sit down. 

"I don't know. He was bleeding, in shock but they got him here fast." He let his head rest in his hands. "God, I wish I knew." 

Suzanne leaned on him, putting her arm around his shoulder. "Harrison?" He looked up, finding her even more distressed. Her hand rubbed up his back, halting as she encountered the bandage under the shirt. "What...?" 

"Powder burn," he answered shortly. "What's wrong?" 

"The aliens have started transmitting. Norton needs you back at the Cottage." 

Refusal was his automatic reaction but he fought it away. "What does Norton have?" 

"Some kind of activity near Los Alamos. We waited as long as we could before telling you." Silence answered her. 

"I told him I'd be here," he whispered. 

A warm hand on his, dispelling the chill. "Paul will understand. You know that." 

Harrison nodded absently, standing and walking back to the window. It were as if he were being tested, as if the fates needed to know which was stronger, his love for Paul or his determination to defeat the aliens. With sudden clarity he knew, even before the revelation in the cabin, he would have wanted to stay, would have wanted to be the one beside Paul when he came out of the dark. And he would have left; just as he would leave now, not because of his personal crusade against the alien invaders but for Ironhorse and the rest. 

Suzanne joined him at the window. He tried to smile at her. "Call me the minute you hear anything." 

"You know I will." She kissed him. 

"Suzanne, tell him..." he faltered. "Just..." 

"Harrison," Suzanne said gently, "he knows." 

*****

Ironhorse lay very still, just on the edge of consciousness, the light close now, not the miles away it had seemed before. He hurt all over but it was the rawness of his throat that claimed his attention. He knew the feeling, he had been on a respirator. There was someone in the room, his subconscious had identified them as familiar and safe. It felt good to come into the light with someone waiting for him. 

Shifting, he moaned at the ripple of pain it sent through his chest. A warm hand touched his shoulder, not the one he was expecting. This one was small, feminine. 

"Easy, Paul," Suzanne told him quietly. 

The dark eyes blinked against the dim lights, focusing with difficulty on the beautiful lady above him. "Suzanne?" 

"Welcome back," she said, trying to cover the catch in her voice. 

"Water?" She materialized a glass, held the straw to his pale lips. He wanted more than he took. "How long?" 

"Twenty-six hours." She launched into a medical report. "The bullet hit one of your ribs at an angle, broke the rib and the bullet went out your side. The rib punctured your lung but everything is back together and you'll be fine." 

While he was glad to hear that it wasn't as bad as it felt, it was not the question he wanted answered. "Harrison?" 

"He wanted to be here, Paul," she said quietly, "But..." 

"Aliens?" 

"Yes. Transmissions started yesterday morning. He and Norton tracked them from the Cottage until about six hours ago when they triangulated their position. They took Omega with Derriman in command." 

Ironhorse closed his eyes, considering his feelings after the confession in Harrison's arms. To his amazement, they hadn't changed; he would have felt the worry and fear for his friends even without the softly spoken words of love. He smiled to himself, maybe what he thought was a new discovery wasn't so new after all. 

"When's call in?" He managed to ask, sleep closing in quickly. 

Despite her worry for Paul and the team in the field, Suzanne smiled. She had known that would be one of his first questions. "They checked in two hours ago but didn't have anything. Next call should be any minute." 

He was blinking rapidly, voice slurried. "Okay. Tell Harrison to be..." he drifted off. 

Still smiling, Suzanne gently ran her hand over his forehead, repeating the words she had said to Harrison. "He knows, Paul, he knows." 

*****

Leaning forward in the wheelchair Ironhorse listened intently to the radio messages coming into the Cottage communications center. Five days after the shooting the doctors had surrendered to his demands to be sent home. Suzanne had not been happy about it but with Harrison and Norton still on the aliens' trail she knew that not being near the action was driving the Colonel crazy. With Mrs. Pennyworth's help they managed to keep him in the chair, change his bandage and make sure he took his medication. Despite the medication she could see the pain etched on his sharp features. 

The radio clicked. "Red Leader, move up. We'll go on my word." Derriman's New York accent seemed stronger when he was on a mission. 

Suzanne's hand went to Ironhorse's forearm. After a cross country chase of fourteen days the Team had closed in around the aliens and were about to move in. 

"Go! Go!" Derriman ordered. 

Ironhorse seemed oblivious to Suzanne's touch. But when the distant sound of shooting carried over the radio, his hand came up to cover hers. There were shots, barely discernable over the remote connection, an explosion and dead air. Derriman's voice cut through the silence. 

"Report." 

Voices echoed over the connection, all except the one Ironhorse and Suzanne were anxiously waiting for. 

"Blackwood?" Derriman called. 

"Right behind you, Sergeant." Came the calm reply. "Colonel? Suzanne?" 

In the Cottage the two exchanged a quick hug; Suzanne careful of her injured companion. "Here, Doctor." Ironhorse told him. 

"Everyone's okay." Harrison's elated, weary voice told them. "We'll stay in Chicago tonight and start back in the morning." 

"Tell Derriman and the squad good work. There'll be extra leave waiting for them when they get back." Paul's voice gave out and he had to pause for breath. 

"Paul?" Harrison voice reflected his concern. 

"I'm okay, Harrison," he smiled. "Have a safe trip." 

He sagged back into the chair, eyes closing, as the satellite connection snapped off. "God, I'd go crazy being able to hear everything but not being able to help. How does Norton do it?" 

A cool hand touched his forehand. He opened his eyes to find Suzanne frowning at him. "You should be in bed." 

Automatic protest started but he cut it off; the dragging ache in his chest proving her right. "I'm going." At her look of surprise he explained, "I'm not stupid, Suzanne. I know better than to mess with a wound like this. I just... I couldn't rest until I knew the situation." 

"I know. Come on, let me..." 

In his best military voice, he cut her off. "I'm not helpless, either, Suzanne. I can get to bed by myself." 

They glared at each other. "Okay," Suzanne relented, "on the condition you take a pain pill when you get upstairs." 

"I don't..." The look on her face convinced him that it would be better, for once, to follow orders. "Affirmative, Doctor." 

As he rolled away, Suzanne looked down at the hand that he had held. He had not noticed how tight his grip had gotten as they waited for Harrison to check in. Thoughtfully, she wondered if he recognized the warmth that colored his eyes and the way his mouth lifted in that very slight smile when he talked to Harrison. She shook her head, what a strange pair to be friends. 

*****

The analgesics wore off just before dawn. Ironhorse lay still so as not to aggravate the wound, not wanting another painkiller until it was absolutely necessary. Unwanted thoughts chased around his mind. What had seemed so right in Harrison's arms now seemed dangerously, foolishly romantic. If they were found out the consequences would be devastating. There was also Norton and Suzanne to consider; keeping a secret from they would be impossible. While he didn't think they were homophobic if either were... 

Tomorrow would be the first time he had done more than spoken to Harrison since that night in the cold cabin. He was suddenly completely unsure of himself, of what would happen, of what he should do. There were few times in his life that Ironhorse could remember being indecisive and very few when a wrong decision could have such far reaching consequences. 

*****

"Suzanne!" Harrison ran in, snatching her up and kissing her on the cheek. Norton rolled in behind him, exchanging a quick hug. 

"How did you get back so soon? We weren't expecting you until tonight at best!" She laughed. 

Norton smiled. "We hitched a ride on a military jet. The Omegans will be back in two hours; they had to take a different flight. The Army will be flying the green machine back tonight." 

"We wanted to get home," Harrison said with a deep sigh. "Where's Paul?" 

"Upstairs, asleep." At the shade of concern that filled the blue eyes she put a hand on his arm and said, "He's okay, Harrison. There's still some pain and the pills make him sleepy." 

Harrison nodded, the concern not fading. "I won't wake him." He yawned. "I think I'd better grab a nap before anything else. 

"You're not the only one, Doc." Norton copied his yawn. 

"How's Debi and Mrs. Pennyworth?" Harrison asked as he started the long walk toward the elevator, dragging his single bag with him. 

"Debi's at the mall with Coleman and Mrs. Pennyworth's in the kitchen cooking a special surprise for you two, which is now ruined by your early return." 

"I'm sure she'll think of something," Norton said with another yawn. "Goodnight." 

The elevator doors closed behind them. 

*****

Ironhorse had been expecting and dreading the light knock on his door. Through a fading drug haze he had heard Norton and Harrison's return. He had wanted very much to see Harrison but he had heard the exhaustion in the deep voice; had heard him and Norton exchange goodnights. He had dozed, knowing that Harrison would come as soon as he was recovered in two or three hours. 

"Come in," Ironhorse invited. 

Harrison opened the door slowly, smiling and frowning alternately as he approached. Ironhorse's expression was neutral. Harrison sensed the tension in the air, was unsure of its cause. Paul looked thin and pale, sleep still evident in the black eyes. He was drawn toward the smaller man. Ironhorse stepped back. 

"Paul?" 

"Welcome back, Doctor." 

"Doctor?" Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Harrison sighed. "This isn't the welcome home I had in mind." 

"What you had in mind isn't possible," Ironhorse said fatally. 

"Why?" Harrison asked innocently. 

"I took an oath, Harrison, to follow the regulations..." 

"That's a crock, Colonel," Harrison said calmly. "Tell me you haven't broken half the regulations in that manual for this team." 

"That's different. That was to accomplish a mission, this would endanger that mission." Ironhorse argued. "It would put us back into the same position we were in two weeks ago. And we've already been over what happens to anyone convicted of being gay in the Army and what it would mean to this team." 

"Another crock, Paul," Harrison argued gently. "You would have fought just as hard against any false accusation. It wasn't the possibility of being thought gay that made you mad. You told me that yourself." 

"I can't risk it, Harrison," Ironhorse almost pleaded. The world tilted around him. 

"No one would know, Paul," Harrison told him firmly. "We have enough secrets in our life that one more won't make any difference." He smiled. "We could consider it just another covert operation." 

"What about Suzanne and Norton?" Ironhorse asked. 

Harrison was puzzled for a moment. "What about them?" 

"We couldn't keep it secret from them. This is more than a two man team. We'd have to tell them." 

"Agreed." 

"What if they don't like it?" 

"We could give them the benefit of doubt... no, just the question could start problems," Harrison conceded quietly. He lapsed into thoughtful silence. 

Ironhorse watched him closely, realizing something. "You've been thinking about this too. Haven't you?" 

Harrison only nodded. All of his life he had bucked the system, been right on the edge of normal; had never sought the approval of others. He was aware that the kind of relationship he wanted was not considered normal but he also remembered the love in Paul's eyes; what he had felt, even past the fear, with the slender body in his arms, the fire in the returned kiss. There was something very right in all of that. 

But Ironhorse was right. There was more than just the two of them; there were four of them in this war and to split the team would endanger all they were fighting for. 

He turned to find Ironhorse had moved to the window. "Paul?" 

"Yes?" 

"You're right," Harrison said reluctantly. He had lost a lot to the war but this was the first time he had sacrificed to it. It hurt. 

Ironhorse felt Harrison's pain as his own. "Death bed confessions don't seem very smart when you live through them." 

Harrison joined him at the window, put a hand on his shoulder. "Do you regret telling me?" 

Black eyes met his, open and honest. "Only for the pain it's causing you." 

Harrison's hand tightened. "No matter what else, Paul, I'm glad you told me. I love you." 

Paul's voice was very gentle. "I never doubted it." 

"I'll see you downstairs," Harrison said levelly, controlling the sorrow in his voice. 

The door closed, the sound cutting through Paul like a knife. He cursed silently, refusing to acknowledge the single tear that tracked down one cheek. Twice in his life he had loved, and twice in his life he had lost them to war. With a shaky frown he told himself not to exaggerate. He still had Harrison's friendship and that meant more to him that he would have ever thought possible. 

The door opened with a bang, slammed shut with equal force. Ironhorse turned, found himself pulled firmly but gently into Harrison's arms. Capable, strong fingers tangled in his hair and a hungry mouth claimed his. Without thinking Paul parted his lips, leaning closer, demanding more. Reality clashed in and he pushed Harrison away far enough to stare up into the wild gray-blue eyes. 

"Harrison, we agreed. We can't." 

"Yes, we can." Harrison insisted. He grabbed Ironhorse by the upper arms, barely restraining himself from shaking the other man. "This war has taken my parents, Clayton, Karen, everyone and everything I've loved! If we're fighting for the whole damn world then the world owes us a little in return! This is it and I'm taking it!" His voice gentled. "I am not giving you up, Paul Ironhorse, so you'd better get use to the idea." 

Harrison dropped his hands from Paul's arms, letting the bold statement stand between them. He had seen the glitter of tears in the ebony eyes, knew that Ironhorse waited this as much as he did, deserved it as much as he did. 

"You're asking a lot of the world, Harrison," Paul said softly. 

A large hand was laid lightly on his chest. "The world's asking a lot of us." 

Love sparkled in the two pair of radically different eyes. With a com bination groan and sigh, Ironhorse let his emotions take him. He slowly, carefully, raised his hands to cup Harrison's face, urging the taller man down to him. Their mouths met, Paul the aggressor this time. A combination of pain and arousal forced a moan from his throat as he tasted Harrison for the first time. In that moment the world righted itself and he could feel balance return to his life. 

Heat etched along Harrison's nerves and he wrapped himself around Paul, only to feel the other man flinch. He pulled back immediately. 

"Oh, damn, I'm sorry, Paul, I forgot..." 

Ironhorse laughed, an honest, slightly frustrated laugh. "Don't panic, Harrison." He began to unbutton the plaid shirt his friend was wearing. "We'll work it out." 

Watching in detached fascination, Harrison waited until Paul had finished his shirt and pulled it free of the loose pants, then he reached for the pearl snaps on Ironhorse's dark blue shirt, only to have his wrists held still. 

"Harrison, don't weird out over the bandages, okay?" Paul's voice was rough, touched with concern, like the day he had told Harrison about Khe Shong. 

Harrison took a short breath and the merest tremor went through his hands as the nightmare in the cabin came back. He pushed it away, seeing only the beautiful, lively eyes just below his. 

"I think you'd better let me do most of the work this time," Harrison suggested hesitantly, knowing that Ironhorse did not like to be led. 

To his surprise, Ironhorse kept smiling. "Soldiers have to know how to take orders as well as give them, Harrison." Teasingly he added, "Besides, I haven't had someone do all the work in a long time." 

"Okay, maybe not all the work," Harrison amended. 

He pushed the shirt off Paul's slim shoulders, tugged it free of the jeans. He swallowed hard at the sight of the cloth tape that ran from just under the brown nipples to the bottom of his ribs. It was startlingly white against the dark skin. The denim was stiff under Harrison's fingers as he unsnapped the jeans and slid the zipper down. A gentle hand pushed Paul to sit on the bed and Harrison helped him ease the solid black boots off. Paul stood up and gingerly took off the jeans. Harrison's eyes widened in mischief, mouth twitching. 

"I would have figured you for a jockey man, Colonel." Harrison ran a single finger along the top of the dark blue briefs. 

Paul pulled at his lower lip, trying very hard not to let Harrison know he was slightly ticklish. In retaliation he ran his left hand up Harrison's chest through the open shirt. The dark eyes lit with surprise. 

"A little different?" Harrison questioned, watching his friend. 

For once Paul didn't pick up on the edge of worry in Harrison's voice. "Native Americans don't have much body hair." 

"I know. You never shave." Harrison said, running the back of his hand up one smooth cheek. "Is it too different? Should we stop?" 

"What?" Paul's eyes snapped up, saw the uncertainty. "It is different. But I think I like it. What about you? According to white man standards I'm not exactly ideal." 

"Oh?" Harrison questioned lightly. 

"I'm not tall, blonde and blue eyed," Paul said with a slight smile. "Too thin, too dark." 

Harrison pretended to closely survey the other man, turning him with a finger on his arm. Paul looked surprisingly young. At 6'2" Harrison had five inches and 25 pounds on his soon-to-be lover. The illusion was added to by the slender frame, smooth chest and narrow hips. But the muscles standing out in sharp relief under the even red-brown skin dispelled the image. Lastly, Harrison noticed the scars, stark, white and frightening. 

Paul saw the playful expression fade. "Harrison?" 

"Suzanne was right, you do have a hell of a set of scars." 

"Everyone had scars," Paul said firmly. Copying Harrison's earlier gesture, he spread his hand over the pale chest. "Mine are just on the surface." 

Gray-blue eyes looked up and the love in them took Paul's breath. "You are beautiful." 

Paul stepped closer, flicking his thumb over one nipple, was rewarded with a quick breath from Harrison. "When do I get to see what I'm getting?" 

Sitting in the same place Paul had, Harrison removed his shirt, sneakers, jeans, and finally briefs. He was already half-risen from the look of absolutely delight that Paul was giving him and blushed like a teenager. 

Paul took pity on him, stepping back and removing the last of his clothes. His dark cock was in the same condition as Harrison's. Harrison started to stand but Paul held him down with a single hand on his shoulder. 

"Wait," he ordered. Calloused fingers combed through Harrison's tight curls. "I've wanted to do that for.. awhile. I couldn't reach you with all this tape." 

"I guess that means I'll do?" Harrison asked innocently. 

Paul pulled him up into his arms, ignoring the tug of pain from his ribs, shocked at the heat that flared with the touch of bare skin and silk-soft hair. "If this were 1890 and the Native American territories, I would have to steal a hell of a lot of ponies to pay for you." 

Harrison laughed, leaning down to claim the lopsided grin. 

The fires that had been carefully banked along Paul's nerves flared. He pulled himself closer, sucking Harrison's tongue into his mouth. Harrison's hands ran lightly along dark shoulders, stroked Paul's neck. Paul returned the caresses, following the long muscles down Harrison's back, pausing only briefly before moving to cup the firm buttocks. 

Harrison moaned, pressing forward, then breaking away. "Lay down," he whispered into the black hair. "I don't want to hurt you." 

Paul nodded, with only one kiss fully risen. He lay back carefully, taking a deep breath to control his nerves and settle his ribs. The mat tress was hard beneath his back and didn't shift when Harrison stretched out next to him, not touching, regarding him with a critical eye. 

"Paul, are you sure? You're hurt. We can wait." 

"We've waited long enough," Paul said firmly. He held his arms out to Harrison. 

Harrison forgot his reluctance, rolling closer to rest his chest on Paul's uninjured left side. He lay one long leg over Paul's thighs, just brushing his erection. Paul arched up, craving more contact. Pain slammed him down flat. 

"Shit," he mumbled. 

"That's the first time I've ever heard you say that," Harrison observed. 

"Well, this is not the way I imagined it!" Paul's voice rose just a little. 

"Imagined it?" Harrison teased. "What exactly did you imagine?" 

It was Paul who found himself blushing, something he had a tendency to do when confronted with a romantic situation. "I... more energetic." 

Harrison began to kiss lightly along his shoulder, moving toward his neck, pausing just as his curls touched Paul's lean cheek. "How energetic?" 

"Blackwood," Ironhorse complained, "you talk too much." 

"Oh, well, I'll have to think of something else to do." 

He covered Paul's mouth, running his tongue over his lips but moving on before it could deepen, resuming the butterfly light kisses, crossing over Paul's chin, teasing along his jaw and eyes, leaving a scorching trail along his collarbones. Harrison's erection frictioned against Paul's hip, eliciting a deep moan from the bigger man. Without warning his head dropped, tongue circling one dark nipple. 

Paul arched up, his good arm pressing into the light hair, begging for more. Harrison continued to tease for a moment before sucking on the erect nub. The effect was a soul deep moan and a hard breath from his lover. Slowly Harrison's hand brushed over the coarse tape, circled it's way down the flat stomach, skimmed across the hips and skipped to the tightly muscled thighs. A wicked chuckle rumbled in his throat as Paul tried to move his cock into the erotic path. Harrison ignored him, continued to stroke the hard muscles, just touching the edge of the black patch of short curly hair. 

"Harrison..." Paul was pleading now, kneading hard on one broad shoulder. 

Paul was shocked by his own reactions, he had never ignited so fast or so high. Every touch left a trail of silver mist that drifted into his blood and was floating him away. That part of his mind still functioning knew that he wasn't returning the pleasure for Harrison, but at the moment the overload to his muscles made it impossible. 

The hand on his legs stilled. He took a deep breath, forced his eyes open. Blue eyes, blazing with love and lust met his. 

"I love you, Paul," Harrison whispered fiercely. 

"Love you," Paul managed. "I can't reach you... want us together." 

Despite the near blinding passion, Harrison pulled back. He kissed Paul almost chastely, both hands lightly stroking the sides of his face, trying to cool the fire and only feeding it. "I have an idea." 

Paul's eyes were glittering with an incredible intensity when Harrison eased away. "I hope I live through it." 

Harrison laughed. He slid around until he was laying with his head near the narrow waist. He carded long, graceful fingers through the coarse black hair, kissed one hip. Before he could go any further a hot hand closed around his cock and it was his turn to gasp and falter. 

Paul smiled slightly, pleased with the reaction his instinctive move had gained. His hand tightened, started to move up and down agonizingly slowly. Harrison was large, blood turning the shaft a wine red against the fair body. Paul realized that his lover was as close to the edge as he was. The idea pleased him; as did the fact that he could now give as well as receive. He increased the rhythm, the skin gliding like velvet over steel. He wondered vaguely what it would be like when he could do more than hold it. The images sent another wave of ice and fire along his too sensitive nerves. 

Through slitted eyes, Harrison watched his dark lover. The black hair was completely disarrayed, laying across the high forehead, scattered against the pillow; his eyes were closed, lower lip held between white teeth. At that moment he looked both gentle and savage, primitive and promising. Harrison smiled; they were close. He took Paul in his mouth. 

"Harrison!" Paul screamed his name and pushed up into the wet heat that held him. 

His hand tightened automatically around Harrison's cock. All coherent thought disappeared as they were suddenly moving together in a pattern instinctive and timeless, racing toward release. 

"Harrison..." Paul was there first, the hot, sucking creating too much pleasure for him to control. He tried to give Harrison warning but it was too late. He came, feeling the warm tongue circle him even as he spilled into the tight throat. Somehow he keep up the pressure on Harri son's cock, pumping hard, wanting them together. 

Harrison could feel Paul's cock swell that extra bit, heard Paul warn him, giving him a chance to pull back. To his surprise, he didn't want to; wanted to give Paul this pleasure, wanted him to know that nothing they did now or in the future could be wrong. When the first of Paul's seed hit the back of his throat he groaned, pushing up into the hand that held him. He came with an intensity that he had never known. 

Neither moved for a few minutes, letting the warm and comfortable silence cover him. Harrison eased away, shifted back to rest his head on Paul's good shoulder. Paul tugged at the edge of the sheet, wiped his hand on it. Harrison saw the move and laughed. 

"Got you a little messy." 

"Ummm." 

Concern entered Harrison's voice; he touched the tight bandage. "You're going to be in pain after that little exhibition." 

"Ummm." 

Harrison pushed himself up on one elbow, stared down at the smaller man. "Are you okay?" 

"Sex makes me sleepy," was the slurried response. 

"Uh, oh." 

Paul squitted up. "What uh, oh?" 

Sparkling eyes full of mischief stared down at him. "Sex wakes me up." 

Groaning, Paul closed his eyes again. "Why am I not surprised." Shifting to get up, Harrison found himself pulled tighter. "Stay." 

The curly head lowered to the shoulder again. "I thought you were sleepy?" 

There was no reply for a minute as Ironhorse forced himself to wake up a little. "Is it worth it, Harrison?" 

The hesitancy in the always confident Colonel caught Harrison by sur prise; he smiled, running his hand over one hip. "I... it was... I love you." 

It was Paul's turn to laugh at his talkative companion reduced to stuttering. 

Harrison pushed himself up again, needing to see the other's face. "How about you?" The expression in the deep eyes brought tears with its beauty and peace. Harrison kissed the open mouth gently. "I love you." 

"And I you," Paul said lowly. Worry entered his expression. "We have to tell the others." 

Harrison stroked the raven colored hair. "Tonight, after dinner." 

That agreed they feel silent again. Harrison lay back down. Ironhorse smiled to himself, feeling the balance, and more, feeling a completion like none he'd ever know. He could hear his Grandfather laugh. The last thing haunting him seemed suddenly easy. 

He rubbed Harrison's broad back. "Harrison?" 

"Yes." 

"Among my people there are legends about joined warriors." The seriousness in his tone made Harrison look up. "When one dies, his spirit joins with that of his lover's. The living one takes up his strength and will and love. That way they are never apart and the one's death has a deeper meaning." 

Turquoise and ebony met, sharing secrets older than civilization, brighter than winter stars. Harrison nodded. 

"I understand." 

*****

There was a minor celebration at dinner when Ironhorse made it downstairs without the wheelchair, even if it was with Harrison's help. Dinner discussion was around the mission, of chasing aliens through half the country and Norton's genius in finally figuring out their ultimate goal. If Suzanne and Norton noticed the nervous glances that passed between the other two they gave no notice. 

By the time they had retired to the living room Ironhorse was alternating between amusement and terror. He respected his other two teammates but revealing things about himself was not something he was comfortable with, especially something this personal. He looked pleadingly toward Harrison, hoping that he would at least start. As he did he belatedly rea lized that Harrison wasn't much for revealing romantic interest either, given his reactions with the beautiful Russian scientist. 

Harrison's reaction to his look surprised him; the wonderful blue eyes were half-embarassed, half-prideful, like a kid caught playing doctor with a neighbo’rs child. The analogy brought a slight lifting of Ironhorse's mouth. Playing doctor wasn't what Paul had in mind once he was healed. 

"What are you two smiling about?" Suzanne's voice snapped them back to their task. 

"We, that is..." Harrison stammered. "The Colonel, Paul and I have... 

"We have something we need to discuss with the two of you," Ironhorse supplied levelly. 

They had Norton's attention now and he rolled closer. "Come on, Doc," he urged. "Don't keep us sitting here with a stupid smile on your face. Is this about the Project or what?" 

"Yes," Harrison was suddenly scared, as he realized what he could be endangering with the confession. But when he looked at the two before him he saw only curiosity and concern. "It's personal, but what you two think about it will have a profound influence on the continued viability of this team." 

It was Suzanne and Norton who suddenly looked worried. One final time Harrison looked toward Paul. Paul let all the love he felt toward the other man show in his dark eyes. 

"Suzanne, Norton," Harrison said seriously. "Paul and I are in love." 

There was a chilling silence. Suzanne and Norton exchanged quick looks. 

"I think it's disgusting..." 

Harrison's heart fell. 

"...that it took the two of you this long to figure that out." Suzanne said. "You're supposed to be the genius here, Harrison." 

"What..." Ironhorse started. 

"Geez, Doc,," Norton complained. "I thought you were going to tell us something we didn't know." 

"You..." Harrison was shocked. "You mean you.. suspected.. you knew this might happen?" 

"We're not blind." Suzanne's smile warmed. "It would have been pretty hard to miss all the concern and love you two were throwing around lately." 

"In between throwing things at each other," Norton reminded them. 

"You don't mind?" Paul asked in disbelief. 

It was Norton, surprisingly who answered seriously, "I think, given what we do for a living, we need all the happiness we can grab. That you two found it in each other is great." 

"What about Debi?" Ironhorse wondered. 

Suzanne stood and kissed them both on the cheeks. "Well, she's known about the birds and bees for a long time. When she gets old enough to ask about birds and birds, I'll tell her." 

"I do want to know one thing," Suzanne continued. She pointed to Paul. "Does this mean you will stop kidding him about me?" 

"Probably not." Paul said dryly. "I don't mind sharing." 

He was rewarded with not only her blush but Harrison's as well. He smiled, teeth flashing white. Knowing suddenly that it was over, that they could get on with their lives and their battles, Ironhorse leaned back in his chair. "You people are amazing." 

"Ain't it the truth," Norton quipped. He rolled closer, extending his hand to Ironhorse. "Congratulations, big guy, Doc. I know you'll be happy." 

Paul exchanged a long look with his new lover. "You can count on it, Mr. Drake."


End file.
